


Unintentionally Satan's Favorite

by Twotomatoidiots



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Demons, M/M, Patrick makes a deal with the devil, Supernatural Elements, add tags as I update, alternative universe, pete is the devil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twotomatoidiots/pseuds/Twotomatoidiots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fic idea where a lonely person sells their soul to Satan to be their friend and Satan rolls with it until he realizes at the time of their death he genuinely likes them. Since he can’t renege on the contract, he takes them to Hell and puts them in a high position of power. Demons hardened by a millenia of torture now have to answer to a shy, self-conscious, quiet, depressed, lonely person who has unintentionally become Satan’s #1”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should add that the character death warning is only because Patrick does have to die at some point, but I promise it won't be gory or anything, it's just part of their deal
> 
> Thank you for all of the comments, I love reading them!

If Patrick’s being completely honest with himself, he didn't actually expect it to work. If he had known that that whole “Draw a pentagon and say some Latin incantation” shit worked, he would have just gone out and tried to make friends the normal way.

But instead, here he was, a pentagram scorched into the carpet of his apartment he is now not getting the deposit back on. Not to mention the smell of sulfur in the air that had him scrunching his nose at. And, let’s not forget, the guy with black hair, uncomfortably tight black shirt and skinny jeans that looked suspiciously girl-ish, sitting on his couch, scrolling through his phone as if he had been invited into Patrick’s apartment.

Well, Patrick supposes, he actually was.

“Are you going to tell me why I was called here or are you going to stare at me and let this silence continue?” The guy (demon?) asked, looking up, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his jeans and standing up. Patrick closed his mouth and looked in his eyes, jumping as they seemed to give off a flash of orange, suspiciously like the color of Hellfire.

“Let me guess,” He continued when Patrick made no attempt to reply,” You decided to mess around with some magic, thinking it was a joke, surprised it actually worked, and now frightened for your life?” He rolled his eyes at the end, like this happened all the time and was now nothing more than an inconvenience like Patrick hadn’t just summoned a fucking demon from Hell.

“Look, I have some old lady in California to tell her that her times up so if we could move this along, that’d be fantastic, Pattycakes.” The demon sighed at him. He stared at Patrick a few more moments, then turned as if to leave. Where to, Patrick didn’t know since he turned towards the wall, completely opposite of Patrick’s apartment door. Patrick registered the guy saying some kind of Latin (which he only recognized because he spent a solid three hours on Google trying to figure out how to say the incantation that brought the demon here in the first place).

“-Wait!” Patrick blurted out, reaching out and grabbing the demon’s wrist, pulling him back slightly. “How did you know my name?” Or at least, half of it. Nothing in the incantation mentioned him saying his name and Patrick was sure as hell it didn’t slip out at any point in the conversation.

“And he talks, amazing, And I know your name, Patrick, because I’m the Devil and it’s kinda my job to know people, even those who stick to the sidelines like you. ” The demon’s lip twitched as if he was going to smirk. “Since you regained your ability to speak, this is how it goes down: You ask for a wish, the more severe, the less time to live it out. You sign over your soul and when the times up, you spend your eternal damnation being a demon. That work for you or should I leave while I’m ahead?”

Patrick stopped to think. He knew before all of this if it worked he knew what he was going to wish for, even if it’s a bit pathetic. He had nothing to lose, as for the whole dying part. He wasn’t suicidal, don’t get him wrong, he just didn’t want to spend the rest of his life going to his job at the bookstore for eight hours a day five days a week to not even come home to a pet, much less family or friends. With this in his mind, He stood up, straightened his back, and prayed his voice didn’t waver as he said,” A friend”


	2. Chapter 2

“A...friend?” Pete didn't know if this guy was serious. He had a demon, capable of giving him anything - World domination, fame, money- and he asked for a friend? Who was this guy?

“If you want to laugh, go ahead and do it,” Patrick huffed. So what if he wanted a friend? That’s what most people want in life right? Someone to talk to and do fun things with? Was that such a weird thing to ask? “I’m not asking to be rich or anything, I just want a friend.” 

“That’s a first, I have a guy with a bad toupee and a loud mouth on that wish already. Heard he's running for president or something.” Pete waved his hand. He snapped his fingers and a packet appeared on the Patrick’s coffee table. Patrick picked it up and glanced it over.  
  
‘Soul Contract’ was the only thing on the first page, he flipped it open to the first page, scanning for anything like ‘ The Devil actually gets to burn you alive for this’ or ‘Surprise! This is all a trick for me to get more demons under my command.’ 

“Feel free to look it over,sign it with this when you’re done and call me,” The demon says and hands Patrick a sparkly pink glitter pen from God-knows-where. Patrick is about to question his interesting choice of writing utensils when there’s a flash of light and a gust of wind and the demon’s gone. 

He stares down at the burnt piece of carpet that looks suspiciously like a pair of shoes and sighs. He sits on his lumpy couch, kicks his feet on the coffee table and shuffles into a comfortable position to start reading the contract. 

~~  
A day later and Patrick has read over the contract a total of twelve times, making sure there are no hidden surprises. Patrick wasn’t a lawyer, but it’s not like he could exactly bring this contract to his own for obvious reasons. 

There was the stuff Patrick expected, like 'there’s no changes once it's signed', and that the person can’t try to get out of the contract. Patrick bit the tip of the pen, momentarily forgetting that the King of Hell owns it, and decides,” Fuck it",before signing his name on the X in the ridiculously bright ink. 

He stood up, fixing the sleeves on his shirt that he had pushed up and cleared his throat, “Uh, Satan? It’s me, uh, Patrick Stump? I signed the contract thing..and uh..” Patrick was lost; he really didn’t know what to do now. He wasn’t looking forward to his soul being binded in a contract of his death but being ignored by the Devil after signing a contract for a friend was kind of humorless irony.

He was about to shrug and get ready for his shift at the bookstore in three hours (he had nothing better to do), when a flash went on behind his back. He momentarily saw his silhouette on the wall in front of him before he spun on his heel

The demon from yesterday was there, leaning against the wall that half separated his kitchen and living room instead of sitting on the couch this time. He was still wearing obnoxiously tight jeans, but this time he topped it off with an awful neon green puffy vest. He smiled, teeth white and blinding, at Patrick.

He walked over to the table and picked up the contract. His grin widened (Patrick didn’t know if it was possible) when he opened to the page with Patrick’s neatly written signature was.

“I’ll be honest, you didn’t seem like the kind of person to sign this. People like you usually nod until I leave and then shred or burn any evidence I visited them at all. You’re full of surprised Pattycakes.” Pete said. He watched as Patrick’s face went from surprised to annoyed in a matter of a second. 

“Don’t judge me when you’re wearing that awful outfit,” Patrick grumbled lowly, then widened his eyes when he realized he probably shouldn’t insult the person who controls his life, but Pete still heard. He glanced down at his outfit, picking at the vest, frowning slightly. He kind of liked it. His adviser, Brendon, said it looked good on him- goddamn it. Fucking Brendon; why’d he even pick him as an adviser, he’s a smart ass.

“I guess you’re right,” Pete shrugged. Patrick snapped his head to him, expecting to be a pile of smoking ash by now or something, not to have him agree. Pete saw his shock and barely hid his grin.

He might just have to keep Patrick.


	3. Chapter 3

“So Pattycakes-” 

“Patrick,” Patrick corrected him.

“That’s what i said. Anyway, you asked for a friend, who did you have in mind?” Pete asked, looking over to Patrick. If it were anyone else, he’d assume they’d want someone famous or their crush from high school. But this was Patrick, and so far, he had been full of surprises. 

Patrick stopped to think. He'd assumed that the demon would just have picked someone out for him, not let him pick who he wanted. Sure there were a few regulars from the store he could probably be friends with if he tried, but then again, they had their own lives and Patrick didn't want to mess with that with some demon magic because he was lonely. 

So he just looked at the demon and shrugged. 

"No one?" Pete asked,"Alright...let's go then." He stepped away from the table and headed to the door. 

Patrick hastily stood up,"What?"

“You wanted a friend, here I am,” Pete gestures to himself with both hands, grinning.

“B-But, you’re the King of Hell? Don’t you have souls to torture or something? Why you?” Patrick asked nervously. When he asked for a friend he didn’t think fucking Satan would be it. He didn’t exactly find torturing people or whatever this demon did as a favorite pastime of his.

“Why not me? Think about it, you can have the King of Hell, Satan himself, as a friend and be able to do whatever you want, or you can go find some mundane little mortal and go get ice cream. Which one?” Pete asked, shrugging. 

“What’s the catch?” Surely there had to be one. Satan wouldn’t just offer to be his friend from the kindness of his heart.

“You’re interesting. The last time I met a human that catch my eye they ended up in a popular band in the 60’s from Liverpool. Stupid name though, who names themselves after a fucking insect?” Pete asked rhetorically. Pete knew if Ryan heard him bitch about one of his favorite band like this, he’d never hear the end of it. “Besides, higher the friend, the less time the contract is.”

“How much time exactly?” Patrick questioned cautiously. If this meant he had like 24 hours left on Earth or something then he’d insist on a human friend right now.

“I’ll say...one week. Nothing more; think about it, we can do anything you want with no repercussions. We could scale the Eiffel Tower, bungee jump off the Great Wall of China,” Pete offered. Patrick bit his lip, thinking. He was scared of heights, so the whole bungee jumping thing and scaling one of the world’s most popular tourist destinations weren’t exactly his idea of fun. But he had signed the contract, his life officially over, so he might as well spend the rest of his human life having fun to the best of his abilities.

“O-okay..I guess that works…” 

“Besides, I have hellhounds for the torture of souls thing,” Pete shrugged. Patrick didn’t know if he was kidding.

~~

“Y’know, when I suggested we can do fun things, watching you sell books and stocking shelves wasn’t exactly included,” Pete huffed, bored. They were at the shop where Patrick worked and, Pete could acknowledge that it wasn’t a bad store. It wasn’t dusty or dimly lit. It was burningly bright, actually, and full of every kind of book, with a steady stream of customers all morning. If Pete wasn’t busy most times running Hell, he would might have actually have stopped in here sometime to get a few books. It wasn’t any kind of Barnes and Noble or Borders, but it was definitely privately owned and had a comfy feeling to it without a Starbucks selling over priced coffee.

Patrick put the middle aged woman’s recently purchased books in a bag and handed it to it, along with her change and receipt, smiling with a ‘Hope to see you soon’ following as she left. When the door shut, the door chime going off, his smile slipped and he turned to the demon, crossing his arms,“Just because my soul is now damned for eternity doesn’t mean I can just leave Ms. Davis to run her shop by herself. My shift's done in an hour, just suck it up until then.”

Patrick would have been politer, talking to the ruler of Hell and all, but he had been complaining like a child for the better part of three hours and Patrick was sort of sick of it. At least Pete changed into something less hideous than the vest before they left Patrick’s apartment. He had snapped his fingers, the vest gone and replaced with a plain black band tee too faded to read. Though the girl jeans stayed and Patrick was sensing a trend going on there.

The door chimed again and Pete sighed as Patrick put on his fake smile, ready to greet the customer, when Pete saw it transform into a real one

“Ms. Davis!” Patrick called out cheerfully, stepping out from behind the counter. Pete sat up on the little couch he was sprawled out on to see Patrick hugging a lady, maybe sixty five years old.

“Patrick! How’s the store going? No incidents, I hope?” She spoke, her voice slightly cracked, possibly from old age, but more likely from years of smoking.

“The store’s fine, new shipment came in yesterday so I have to stock them before I leave today,” Patrick reported. Ms. Davis hummed, nodding her head at the good news. She was about to say something when she stopped, looking over at Pete as if she just saw him.

“Patrick! Who is your friend?” She asked, walking over to Pete. Pete stood up, shaking her and with a smile. Patrick didn’t know how to respond. How did you introduce the King of Hell to people without being locked in a mental institution? 

Pete took the pause from Patrick to introduce himself,” I’m Pete, m’am. Lovely to meet you.”

Patrick scowled as Ms. Davis practically melted under his charisma. She blushed slightly and Pete smiled at her

If Satan could stop charming his employer, that’d be great.

“Well,” Ms. Davis seemed to shake out of whatever hold ‘Pete’ had on her,” I just stopped in to see how everything is. I have to get going, my daughter’s twelfth birthday is today. Goodbye Patrick, goodbye Pete,” She said, letting the door chime behind her as she left. 

Patrick turned to the Devil,”Pete? Really?” 

Pete shrugged,”Always liked the name. Used to go by a longer name but it’s been a few centuries since then. Humans always evolve, I just go along with it.” 

At eight o’clock, an hour later, Patrick was shutting the shop door, locking it. He put the keys in his pocket and turned to see Pete looking at him expectantly. 

“Well?” Pete drawled out, raising an eyebrow

“‘Well’ what?” Patrick asked. Pete huffed.

“What are we doing? Don’t forget you only have one week left as a human. So, what have you always wanted to do, ‘Rick?” Pete asked

Patrick thought for a moment. He had wanted to travel when he was younger but that was before the accident. He winced at the memory. Even if he did manage to get over his fear or airplanes, he couldn’t afford to go to any foreign country on his current pay. 

As if reading his mind, Pete spoke up,” Don’t worry about cost. I’m taking your soul, I might as well pay for it.” Patrick wished he hadn’t put it like that. Like Patrick (or, more specifically, Patrick’s soul) was something that could be bought and discarded as if worth nothing. Then again, Pete was King of Hell, he probably did this every day. 

“I...always wanted to travel, but I’m kind of terrified of airplanes,so that’s out,” Patrick shrugged

Pete was going to ask about the airplane thing, but it was obviously not explained for a reason. Besides, his job was to be his friend, not his therapist. Pete turned his head slightly, then asked,”Travel where?”

“I don’t know, France maybe, kind of cliche,” He cleared his throat, embarrassed,”But it's one of those ‘must-see’ places I guess.” Patrick blinked, a rush coming over him and he felt sick. He turned to the street, not wanting to throw up on the sidewalk in front of the store. 

Except, the sidewalk wasn’t there, nor was the street. Instead, there was grass; from Patrick’s point of view of hunched over towards the ground, a lot of grass. 

“Sorry, I forgot humans aren’t used to that,” Pete laughed nervously. He really didn’t mean to do that. His position be damned, Pete did have feelings and right now, immense guilt was one of them.

Patrick was about to ask,’used to what?’ when he glanced up, almost squeaking. There was a large tower he’d only seen in pictures and in his French textbook from high school. 

The fucking Eiffel Tower.

“I-I’m not scaling that…” Patrick said nervously, remembering their conversation from earlier. Pete laughed at that and Patrick asked before he could help himself,”How’d we get here?”

“King of Hell, powers come along with it,” Pete shrugged. He looked up, noticing how dark it was.France was,what, seven hours ahead of Chicago? It’s about 3am right now then. He turned to Patrick, who still looked a little green,”The tower doesn’t open for another six or seven hours, so we’ll have to find a hotel or something to stay at for awhile.”

Pete grabbed Pratick’s arm, dragging him out of the garden below the tower and through a few streets to the closest hotel. Being so close to the tower, the hotel was obviously fancy and Patrick had time to look at his clothing of a sweater, jeans, and a fedora, before he was dragged into the lobby. Everything was gold and white and Patrick was scared to even step on the floor, afraid to dirty it. Pete sighed, tugging his arm and directing him to the reception center, leaning Patrick against it slightly so he wouldn’t fall down, due to still being nauseous from the teleporting.

The less-than-awake lady at the hotel desk looked at them and asked them something in French. It’s been a good seven years since Patrick’s spoke French, much less heard it, but he could manage to figure out that she was asking if she could help them. Patrick didn’t even have time to think of a reply before Pete was replying, in fluent French. Of course he was fluent in French, he was King of Hell, he probably knows a ton of languages. 

The lady nodded at Pete, saying something else with something Patrick barely registered as a number before Pete was pulling something out of his pocket and pulled out a red card and handed it to her. She swiped it on a machine Patrick couldn’t really see, before handing it back to Pete, along with a key card. She said something, pointing to the right side of the lobby where Patrick saw elevators.

Pete helped him into the nearest one before pressing the button that said ‘13’. Even in his state, Patrick couldn’t help but groan at the horrible joke. No doubt Pete did it on purpose.

Pete saw his line of vision and grinned,”They didn’t have a 666th floor, sorry.”

When the elevator stopped, Patrick was well enough to walk by himself, shrugging off Pete when he went to help. He walked, albeit slower, down the hall next to pete, who was looking at each of the numbers on the doors. He stopped at room 24, pushing the card against the black box on the door and a barely audible click was heard. Pete pushed down on the handle and opened the door, letting Patrick pass by before stepping in and shutting the door behind him. Patrick barely noticed details about the room before falling onto the closest bed and groaning. 

“You can sleep for a bit, I can wake you up later,” Pete shrugged, sitting on the unoccupied bed and turning on the TV. The only response he got was another groan. It was silent a few minutes later, so Pete glanced over and saw Patrick had fallen asleep. He shrugged, turning the TV down a bit as to not wake him. 

~~

“Rise and shine Patty!” Patrick heard an obnoxiously loud voice. He cracked an eye open and hissed at the bright light. Apparently he had fallen asleep for a while, since the sun was now high in the sky, burning Patrick’s eyes. He sat up, his head killing him. he could only compare this to a hangover, knowledge from one of the few times he had ever gotten drunk to even be effected in the morning. 

“I brought an omelet, croissants, and coffee,” Pete announced, dropping the bag he ha on the little table and plopped down into one of the seats. Patrick got up and shuffled to the other seat before opening the bag, muttering a ‘thanks’ before pulling out containers and a cup. 

“They wanted to put the coffee in a bowl but you seemed out of it so I asked for a cup instead. Wouldn’t do good to give yourself third degree burns before you even got to see anything. “ Pete smiled. Patrick surprised him by sending a quick smile back. Pete ignored the little buzz in his stomach. 

“I made reservations so we can get on the tower today in about an hour and be at the Louvre in two and a half, or whatever you wanna do.” Pete informed. 

Patrick swallowed his food before replying,” No,no that’s fine, thanks. Is it possible to get to go to the Arc de Triomphe, too?” 

Pete grinned,”Of course, though we might have to do that tomorrow; You kinda slept until noon so..”

Well, that explains why Patrick feels like shit. He hasn’t slept to noon since college, almost three years ago. His body’s accustomed to waking up at six every morning so switching routine, not to mention time zones, is screwing with him. “That’s fine.”

When he finished eating, he threw the containers in the trash when he noticed something,"Um, I kinda don't have any clothes here..."

Pete made an 'O' shape with his mouth; he snapped his fingers and on Patrick's bed appeared a pair of his black skinny jeans and a plain red tee.

"Thanks," Patrick grabbed them and headed towards the bathroom.

~~

An hour later and Patrick was standing in front of the tower he had only ever seen in pictures. 

"Rickster, take a picture of me!"

Patrick turned his head to see Pete holding his hands about a foot and a half apart, palms facing each other. Patrick looked around to see about twenty other people doing the same thing. Patrick sighed, taking out his phone and sliding the screen to the camera. He focused the camera and clicked the white circle, hearing the shutter sound. 

Pete bounced over, eagerly looking at Patrick's screen. "Do I look hot?"

Patrick blushed, caught off guard,"Wh-What?" Pete sighed exasperatedly at him

"Do I look hot? In the picture? Show me!" Pete demanded. Patrick went to his camera roll, clicking on the picture and showing Pete.

"Yeah, I do," Pete grinned. He looked at something, his eyes widening "We're gonna be late for the tour!" He exclaimed, grabbing Patrick's hand and dragging him to the base of the tower

~~

"If you ever do that again, I will punch you, King of Hell or not," Patrick managed to get out. He tried to control his breathing. Alright, so the Eiffel Tower wasn't the best place to go if you are scared of heights. Patrick only learned this after Pete dragged him to the top of the tower and out onto the walkway. Patrick spent the entire time trying not to look down and think about free falling to his death. It was hard to do when Pete was going on with facts about the tower ("the Eiffel Tower is 986 feet tall," Pete grinned at his knowledge; Patrick wanted to pass out.). 

Pete frowned, biting his lip,"You feel okay? We can skip the Louvre and go tomorrow if you don't feel well..."

Patrick straightened up, taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate,”No, no, we can still go, I’m fine right now. I’m not a fan of heights.”

“A...Alright, then let’s get going,” Pete announced, already heading towards the exit of the garden to the busy street. Pete guided him through streets and people until he saw a giant glass pyramid and what looked like a palace behind it.

“Musée du Louvre!” Pete said excitedly, throwing his hands out to present it. Patrick nodded, trying to take in the area. The glass building looked amazing, though the sun was out so it was hard to look at. He turned his attention to the palace behind it. 

The palace looked very old, probably centuries. Patrick saw that it looked like it had about three floors, and there was a French flag flying above the roof of the entrance. That was all he managed to see before Pete was dragging him to the entrance.

“There’s the Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, Venus de Milo, I’m so excited I haven’t been here since...hm...was it 1914? Or was it 1916?” Pete’s smile slipped, going into deep concentration that Patrick couldn't help but smile at before he was being dragged off again.

~~

I think I’m going to have about twenty bruises tomorrow,” Patrick winced as they left the Louvre. They had left seeing the Mona Lisa until last, which wasn’t a good idea. Everyone else in the whole goddamn museum was there when they got around to it and Patrick had to fight his way to the front to get a picture. Pete, of course, was standing off to the side, on his phone, until he looked up and saw the death match going on. He snapped his fingers and everyone besides Patrick suddenly turned and went off in different directions. So, naturally, Patrick was pissed.

“I helped, didn’t I?” Pete scowled

“After that soccer mom almost poked my eye out, you bastard,” Patrick huffed, still rubbing his sides where bruises are sure to be tomorrow. Pete shrugged. 

“Let’s go get something to eat, I’m hungry,” Pete announced, heading towards the exit. Patrick had nothing else to do but sigh and trail behind.

~~

“Do you know how to speak French?” Pete asked casually, stuffing his food , something that looked like grilled cheese with ham and an egg, in his mouth. Patrick grimaced at the scene

“I took two years in high school, but I forget almost everything, I only remember like one line,” Patrick said, immediately wishing he hadn’t added in that piece of information.

Pete caught his expression and grinned,”What is it? Something dirty? Come on, tell me,” Pete grinned, leaning forward, his food forgotten momentarily. 

Patrick flushed, sputtering out,” Uh..i-it’s uh.. Mille fois je t’aime…”

“Aww, Patty, je t’aime aussi!” Pete grinned. Patrick flushed, having understood even that. He didn’t spend two years in a class to not remember even the simplest of terms.

The rest of the night, Pete messed with him about that. he would constantly repeat what he said to watch Patrick blush. When Patrick finally fell asleep, Pete sighed, looking around. 

If he was being completely honest, he kind of liked Patrick. He was certainly fun to tease, if anything. Pete still couldn’t understand how someone like him didn’t have any friend, he was a likable person. Patrick even talked to Pete like he would any normal person; Pete didn’t usually have that, there were only a few people in Pete’s closest circle who talked to him as if he wasn’t King of Hell and Pete liked that. Pete was gonna hate in five days when he has to take Patrick to Hell. Pete could always pull a few strings, maybe put him in a high position so Pete can talk to him constantly... It would be a bitch but if he could keep Patrick for all of eternity...he just might have to.

~~

“Please stop letting me sleep in, I’m dying here,” Patrick groaned, sitting up from the bed, glancing at the alarm clock next to his bed that read 11:17am.

“Fine, I’ll wake you up at four tomorrow,” Pete teased, hiding his grin when Patrick scowled at him. 

Pete had brought breakfast again, this time just a toast with jam and butter and a croissant with coffee. Patrick looked up as he ate, noticing for he second breakfast in a row that Pete hasn’t eaten. Yeah, sure, he ate at the cafe last night but that’s been the only time he’s seen Pete eat.

Patrick voiced his thoughts,” Do you eat like humans? You ate last night, but not any other time…”

“I can eat if I want to, it’s just not necessary for me to live, I mostly do it for the taste,” Pete shrugged. Patrick nodded slightly, then went back to eating, the silence slowly becoming awkward.

They headed out after Pete flashed Patrick in more clothes, himself changing as well. They headed down the streets for about half an hour until they suddenly found an open area, full of tourists. Patrick looked ahead, seeing another monument he’d never thought he’d ever see in person. 

This time, Pete was the one trying to catch up as Patrick ran ahead, grinning at the Arc de Triomphe. Pete frowned as he felt a little clench in his heart, but it went away a second later and went to watch up to the redhead. 

~~

“It’s so tall! And the Tomb of the Unknown soldier was sad..but it was cool to see the flame that’s always burning, huh?” Patrick grinned, his inner history geek coming out. 

Pete just nodded along, following Patrick a step behind as they walked back to the hotel 

“I can’t wait to see something else! I mean since….” Patrick’s good mood fell considerably. He remembered he only had about four day left on Earth. It was Tuesday and he made his with Sunday. He had already used two and a half days in France, but where else would he go? 

He knew what he needed to do before he left (“Died,” his brain thought, making Patrick grimace), though he wanted to make sure it was the last thing he did, but besides that, he might as well do whatever he was never able to.

Patrick didn’t want to die without fulfilling his bucket list.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now, next thing on your list, what is it?” Pete asked,
> 
> “Uh... “ Patrick blushed for the third time in less than five minutes (a new record, surely, Pete thought). “It’s kinda stupid, but I’d like to go to a studio? Like a recording studio? It was a childhood wish of mine,” Patrick finished, waiting for the laughter.

They left France the next day, flashing ( Patrick refused; Pete did it anyway) back to Chicago. This led them to where they were now, in front of Patrick’s work. Patrick shifted from foot to foot in front of the door, trying to find the courage to go in. 

“Come on Patty,” Pete sighed, looking more annoyed than anyone had a right to do in girl jeans, fur boots (coincidentally also girl’s) and a shirt with so many colorful flowers, Monet himself would be put to shame. 

“I can’t help it I’ve never quit a job before,” Patrick snapped, cranking his head to look at him. Pete held his hands up, his face twisting into a veil of barely hidden irritation.

Finally, Patrick took a deep breath and pushed the door open, the familiar chime of the door bell, momentarily losing stress in his shoulder. When he saw Ms. Davis behind the counter, the tenseness was back ten fold and he stopped in the doorway. Pete pushed past, subtly shoving Patrick’s shoulder to keep him moving. Ms. Davis looked up from the old book in her lap, putting the book and her pen down on the counter and walked over to them.

“Patrick! You don’t work until tomorrow! What’re you doing here?” She asked, confusion spreading on her face

“I...uh...I-I wanted to tell you…” Patrick was lost. He didn't know how to do this; he didn't quit things! 

“He wants to quit,” Pete finally said, wincing at Patrick’s awful attempts to get the right words out. Patrick flushed, his head falling, and nodded, agreeing. Ms. Davis’ expression conveyed surprise, her mouth opening into a small ‘o’. 

“A-Alright. I’m sorry it came to this. May I ask why?” She tilted her head

“I’m moving!” Patrick blurted out, the first coherent thing he’s managed to say. 

“Hm,” Ms. Davis nodded,”Well, good luck, then.” She squinted her eyes slightly, looking between the two standing before her. “I hope you two have a good time together,” She smiled. Pete smirked slightly while Patrick tried to splutter out something to counter her statement.

“Thanks!” Pete grinned at her, dragging Patrick out of the store.When they reached the sidewalk and Patrick regained his thoughts, he turned to Pete and slapped his shoulder, glaring

“What?” Pete asked innocently.

“She thinks we’re moving in together!” Patrick exclaimed, throwing his hands up  
“We technically are; if you count moving in together as you being a henchman to me for the rest of eternity, that is,” Pete shrugged. Patrick groaned, rubbing his face with his palms. 

He could feel a headache coming on.

“Now, next thing on your list, what is it?” Pete asked,

“Uh... “ Patrick blushed for the third time in less than five minutes (a new record, surely, Pete thought). “It’s kinda stupid, but I’d like to go to a studio? Like a recording studio? It was a childhood wish of mine,” Patrick finished, waiting for the laughter. 

“Alright, I think there’s actually one of mine here in Chicago…?” Pete said it like a question, like he actually wasn’t sure of the answer. 

“You own a record studio?” Patrick gaped. What the fuck was the King of Hell doing, owning a studio? 

“I was into the music scene a few years ago, bought out a few old studios all over the country,” Pete shrugged,”I called it Decaydance,” Pete grinned like he was proud of the label’s name.

“No fucking way,” Patrick said,” You own that huge ass studio? That thing is massive, what the hell!” Pete only shrugged.Patrick shivered, pushing his fedora down on his head a bit more as the wind picked up. September usually didn’t get this cold.in Chicago. 

“Let’s go, then,” Pete grinned, though Patrick thought it looked a little forced. He grabbed Patrick’s wrist, tugging him down the street towards where he thinks the studio is. 

Pete cautiously threw a glance over his shoulder, past Patrick. He frowned when he turned back around so Patrick couldn’t see.

``

“Hey Greta,” Pete greeted as he walked in the front door. Patrick looked around, surprised. From Pete’s fashion sense, he was expecting more neon, more sparkles, not this...minimalist theme. Seriously, everything way a silver or white or glass. It was nice as fuck and if Patrick didn’t know Pete owned it, he would have thought Pete was joking.

The receptionist looked up, smiling kindly Patrick vaguely wondered if she knew who exactly she worked for. “Hey Pete,” She glanced over at Patrick, throwing a curious look at Pete.

“New contract,” Pete dismissed. Greta nodding knowingly, 

‘That settles that,’ Patrick thought to himself before tuning back into their conversation.

“So we need recording studio B,” Pete said as he dragged Patrick over to the elevators, pressing the button on the wall panel with an ‘Up’ arrow. He tapped his foot impatiently, only stopping when Patrick threw him an annoyed look. When the door opened, Pete bounced it, already hitting the tenth floor button before Patrick was fully in the elevator. The doors closed and the silence was so overbearing, Patrick almost wished there was stupid elevator music playing.

When they got out, Pete was out and down the hall before Patrick could follow.

“Slow down!” Patrick complained, half jogging to catch up.He went into the doorway he saw Pete duck into and was met with one of the biggest recording studios he’s ever seen.

This room could have easily held at least twenty five drum sets, and that was just the part outside the booth. Inside the booth had some of the most beautiful guitars Patrick had ever seen and he couldn't help it when his mouth fell open, gaping at everything.

Pete grinned at him, mentally patting himself on the back for managing to get Patrick like that. Just to see his reaction, Pete spoke,”You can play whatever you want.”

Patrick slowly turned to him and his grin was blinding. Pete felt his chest constrict, which made him momentarily frown. It wasn't like he could get sick or anything so why did his chest feel tight and his stomach tingly when Patrick was around? He’s read about stuff like this before, in stories by humans where two people start to fall in-

Oh. But that’s ridiculous! Patrick’s his lackey now. Nothing more than a soul in a body until Sunday. Like all the other humans over the centuries.

Right?

It’s not like Pete hasn’t had crushes before. He’s a poetic soul. He finds someone who fascinates him and then a week later he’s forgetting what he even liked about them. But this has never happened with someone who he’d had to kill in four days. This will go the same way,; the feeling will pass and Pete can go back to ruling over Hell, though with one more demon under his command. 

Patrick hadn’t noticed Pete’s deep thinking, though. Instead, he went into the studio, running his hand over the guitars on the wall. His gaze drifted over to the Gibson on the wall that probably costs as much as Patrick got paid in four months of work.

“You can play it if you want,” Pete’s voice spoke suddenly, he glanced over, unsure. Pete gestured over to it and Patrick walked over to it, slowly. Knowing him, he’d probably trip and fall, breaking it. He lifted it from the pegs of the wall, turning it over in his hands, staring in wonder at it. He sat on a nearby stool, his left hand immediately positioning on the fretboard, the other going to the strings. 

Pete watching him play something lowly, His ears strained until he placed the melody, he snorted,”Bowie, really?” 

Patrick stopped, his hand silencing the strings, he glared slightly,”He’s a musical genius.”

Deciding that getting Patrick to hate him over something as stupid as musical differences in light of Pete’s new found crush, he changed the topic,”How long have you played guitar?” 

“Since high school, though I wanted to be a drummer at first, but my school band had too many drummers, not enough guitar players. I managed to learn both, though,” Patrick shrugged, his fingers going through different chords on the frets, but not strumming.

“So do you sing?” Pete asked, curiously. At Patrick’s blush and shrug he grinned,”You do! Sing for me!”

“No way,” Patrick shook his head, immediately disagreeing. 

“Pleesseeee?” Pete dragged it out, his voice getting higher

“No,”

“Please? Please? Please?”

“No, Pete,”

“Paattyyy! Please!” Pete begged, pouting with puppy dog eyes.

“Fine!” Patrick snapped, then paled,”Wait! No, I didn’t-”

“You agreed already!” Pete grinned, plopping onto the other stool in front of Patrick, shifting until he was comfy then looked over at Patrick expectantly. 

Patrick cleared his throat, trying not to blush while he searched in his mind for a song he could do. He had some he wrote a few years ago but they were terrible. Well, his voice was terrible, not like a good song could make it better. He set his fingers on the fres, tapping a beat with his foot until he found the beat he wanted. He cleared his throat again and strummed, hopping not to mess up too much.

“They lie, they steal, they blog, they feel, entitled to too much…”

~~  
Pete could only stare, stunned. What the fuck exactly was Patrick Stump. No human was this perfect. If Pete only ever heard his voice, if he didn’t know Patrick, he would think he was listening to an angel right now.

“I know I’m terrible, stop staring,” Patrick mumbled, yanking his fedora down farther, this time from embarrassment than being cold.

Pete jumped up, his hands flying in motions a he talked,”You’re amazing, Patrick! Terrible? You’re anything but! Holy shit! Since when can you do that! Patty you’re one surprise after another, what the fuck!” 

Patrick slunk down, face crimson form the compliments, he managed a weak,”Thanks,” before he stood up and hung the guitar back up.

A few more hours and Pete showing Patrick everything in the studio, they left. Pete saw Patrick home (“So nothing happens to my charge,” He lied) and waited for the door to lock before heading down the stairs and outside where a figure was leaning against the wall.

“He’s cute; who is he?” Brendon grinned, straightening up and kicking off the wall.

“A customer,” Pete snapped. “Why are you here?” Pete asked, trying to compose himself

“Well since you took time off to hang with your boy toy, I’ve been busy trying not to let Hell go to, well, hell.” Brendon replied

Pete groaned,”What’s wrong now?”

“Well,” Brendon held up a hand, counting off,”Gabe lost his cobra in the servant's quarter, we’re missing a servant, we think the snake ate the servant, Jon thinks the snake ate his flip flops, Spencer’s pissed ‘cuz he’s Spencer, Tyler is ranting about capitalism again, Josh and Jenna are trying to calm him down, and Ryan wants more money to buy scarves.”

Pete rubbed his hands over his face,”Alright, tell Gabe either he looks after that fucking snake more or it goes. Try to find the servant and don’t just write them off as snake food. Tell Jon that he has enough flip flops; tell Spencer to get over himself. Tell Josh and Jenna there’s no use, just let him go until he stops. And tell Ryan he has enough scarves. What even happened to the ones he has?”

“We sort of got them dirty when-”

“I so do not want to know,” Pete stopped him, pushing a palm out in a gesture. “I’ll be back Sunday, try and keep things under control until then.”

“Aye, aye sir,” Brendon mockingly saluted. His eyes flickered above Pete’s head, smirking slightly. Pete looked behind him and up, a flutter of curtain movement he knew was Patrick’s apartment. When he turned around again, Brendon was gone. He made his way up the steps to the door he was only at a few minute prior.

Knocking slightly, he leaned into the door and said,”Eavesdropping is quite rude, Pattycakes,”

The only hint that Patrick heard was the crash on the other side of the door and a whispered,”Shit.”

Pete grinned and left the building for good that time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I actually kept my word. Sorry it took so long, things kept popping up and I was busy all week. I might be able to update again this weekend, no promises, but in the next week there should be another chapter up. Thank you so much for the kudos', comments, and everything! I didn't think it would get this big this quick to be honest! I edited the tags a bit, just so everyone knows. Sorry for spelling errors, I looked for them but I also wanted this chapter up so, sorry once again


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I promised to have this up like a week ago but I couldn't because the few days I had a laptop I got sick and couldn't really do anything. So I hope you guys forgive me for that. I will try to update again but my week is kinda irregular so I'll see.

It was Thursday when Patrick arrived at his apartment after a mini-food shopping trip (he was still human, he had to eat). He unlocked the door and pushed it open, putting the food on the floor while he hung up his coat and hat. He picked up the bags and almost screamed when he turned around. There was a lump of blankets on his couch.

Patrick jumped when the lump let out an obnoxious snore. When the lump shifted and Patrick caught sight of black hair, he groaned. He placed the groceries on the counter in his kitchen and went back into his living room, raising his hand and hitting the lump of black hair. The lump jumped, startled, and promptly fell off Patrick’s couch, letting out a little groan.

“that wasn’t a very nice thing to do to your boss,” Pete whined, standing up and shoving Patrick’s (previously clean) blankets on the couch.

“Not for another three days, asshole,” Patrick scoffed, turning on his heel and back into the kitchen to put the groceries away, preferably before the milk gets too warm. 

“Where were you anyway? I came here for another request but the apartment was empty,” Pete asked, hopping up on the chairs at the island. 

“So you invited yourself in? And I had to go grocery shopping,” Patrick replied, gesturing to the plastic bags in front of Pete’s face. 

Couldn’t help it, missed you Patty,” Pete shrugged. He barely hid his grin when Patrick slowly started to turn red. 

“S-shut up,” Patrick turned around, taking as long as he could to put away the snacks he bought. 

;Fucking asshole trying to embarrass me all the time,’ Patrick thought with a scowl

Pete said nothing more, sitting there quietly (for once) while Patrick finished putting everything away. 

As if by a switch, when Patrick finished putting the last item in his cupboard, Pete spoke up,”So what’s on the list for today?”

“ I was thinking the Aurora Borealis, it seems like one of those must-see things, you know?” Patrick answered. This was really the only thing left, besides the cemetery, but that was the last thing, saved for Saturday. 

Pete glanced at the clock on Patrick’s stove. 

7:00.  
We can leave in two hours or so, The lights should be visible then. But you might want to wear anything warm you can, it’s Antarctica, it’s fucking freezing there.” 

Patrick thought over this. Yeah, sure Chicago is brutal in the winter but Antarctica was on a whole other level. He supposed he could just wear a ton of layers with his winter jacket, some snow pants maybe. He has snow goggles, mask, and a pair of gloves from when his college friends forced him to go skiing with them (Patrick wasn’t friends with them after he moved back to Chicago). 

“I think I’m okay, I’m pretty sure I have warm stuff, Just, please no neon stuff this time,” Patrick begged. He could only imagine what Pete’s version of an Artic outfit was. He shuddered at all of the neon and sparkles that popped into his mind. 

Pete narrowed his eyes at Patrick’s random spasm, but said nothing.

~~

“Patrick, come on, let’s get going,” He called through the door to Patrick. He was dressed in some of the most expensive warmth clothes, even if he didn’t necessarily need it. He could stand high temperatures, but if there were other people there, that’d be hard to explain. He offered some to Patrick, who vehemently said no, he had his own.

“Just a second!” Patrick called back. Pete heard the doorknob turning and he stepped back when Patrick walked out. Pete felt his heart clench.

Patrick looked fucking adorable, okay? And this wasn’t Pete’s recently found crush talking. Anyone with eyes could see this. Patrick had on so many layers and a thick coat that his arms popped out to his sides slightly. His abdomen was bigger too, along with his legs and the boots he had on were so small in comparison Pete had to stifle a giggle. To top it off, Patrick had on a snow hat, gloves, and snow goggles pushed onto his head. 

“Stop staring,” Patrick muttered, stepping around him,” Are we going?” 

“W-what?” Pete shook out of his daydream,”Yeah, of course,” . He grabbed Patrick’s hand (not necessary, but he wan’t going to tell Patrick that) and closed his eyes, noticing Patrick do the same, along with locking his knees. 

Pete was slightly insulted. He had great aim in terms of teleporting. Okay, so he accidently dropped them a few feet off the ground last time, so what. Patrick’s legs didn’t break did they?

Patrick opened his eyes when he felt a giant change in temperature. All he saw was a vast area of pure-white snow. He wasn’t sure if the breathe that caught in his lungs was from the frigid air or the beautiful sight. Pete gestured with his pointed finger to look up and Patrick once again lost his ability to breathe. 

The sky was clear, much clearer than Patrick had ever seen it, living in Chicago most his life, except for when he went to college. He could see hundred- no, thousand of stars. But the more interesting thing was the green and red streak across the sky. The scene like something out of Hollywood CGI of another planet. 

Pete was amazed too, but was distracted from it by the sight next to him. Patrick was there, his neck craned at the sky, his eyes shining and smiling closed mouth. Pete saw Patrick’s chest heaving, which made him frown. He flashed in the blankets he had Brendon go out and get.

He unrolled one, flattening i out on the snow, he sat down and patted the space next to him. Patrick glanced down, just noticing the blanket and sat down without inquiry. Pete took the other blanket and pushed it over them, laying down, Patrick following his lead. 

Patrick returned his gaze to the sky, Pete glancing at Patrick from the corner of his eye, pretending to be interested in the aurora while he had something much better next to him. 

It must have been twenty minutes later when Pete noticed Patrick was heaving slightly. He shuffled his head closer turning it and whispering,”If you breathe shallower, it helps.”

Patrick nodded, breathing in deeper and the tightness in his lungs was relieved a bit. He turned his head,”Thanks.”

Pete glanced down slightly, knowing this was such a bad idea. It was a terrible one, actually, because Patrick is going to be one of his charges in two days and Pete really shouldn’t do this. More likely than not, Patrick was going to punch him for even trying. There was no way for this to end well-

Pete leaned in more. When their lips met, there was a brief moment that Patrick made a sound and Pete felt fear flash at the thought of him pulling away. He lifted one hand, putting his on Patrick’s cheek, tilting his head and licking his lip. 

Pete thought he died (ironic, right?) when Patrick opened his mouth slightly. Pete rolled on top of him, straddling his hips, messing the blanket up but that’s fine when Patrick was returning Pete’ kiss, holy shit. Pete could even ignore the plastic of the goggles Patrick forgot to pull down digging into his forehead. 

Patrick was pretty sure he was dreaming. Like sure, Pete teased him, but this was beyond teasing. Patrick let Pete explore his mouth, trying to keep up best he could. He wasn’t very good at this type of thing. That’s when he noticed his lungs burning.

Oh right, he needs to breathe. He pushed at Pete’s shoulder’s, who immediately pulled away a few inches. Pete’s advice about breathing deeper didn’t help when Patrick had help breathing in the first place. 

When Pete leaned down again, Patrick raised his hand and covered his mouth, saying flatly,”Some of us need to breathe to live, you know.” 

Pete pouted, but complied and rolled off. fixing the blanket so Patrick didn’t freeze. 

Patrick sat there, not even watching the sky anymore, too consumed in his thoughts. 

There was no way Pete liked him. Pete was the King of Hell, Patrick didn’t even think it was possible for him to. 

But then, why would he kiss him?

Was it a joke? Pete was King of Hell, but Patrick had never seen him cruel once this whole week. 

Pity? Guilt? 

Something clicked. He felt pity for Patrick. Pete had said himself at the beginning of this whole thing that he couldn’t believe Patrick wanted friends. It was pathetic, Patrick was pathetic. His happy mood deflated, something akin to anger and sadness replacing it. He stood up suddenly, speaking with a stiff voice,” I want to go back to my apartment, now.” 

Pete jumped up, noticing Patrick’s posture an tone of voice. He was angry? Pete was confused. Did Patrick not like Pete? He kissed him back, though. You don’t do that with people you don’t like, right? Maybe things are different nowadays. 

He couldn't meet Patrick’s eyes, nodding sadly. He picked up the blankets, bunching them in a ball and focused, The temperature rose and they were back in Patrick's apartment. Patrick stormed into his bedroom, shutting the door and Pete could hear the click of the lock. He slumped over, calling out,”What did I do?”

“Fuck off Pete!” Sure, 

Pete stared at the door shocked. Pete could easily flash in there, but Patrick was pissed off and Pete doesn’t think there was anything he could do to help that. The last thing that Pete wanted was try to help now. He’d wait for Patrick to want him back before trying to talk it out. He sighed and turned, flashing out the room. 

~~

Patrick woke up the next morning, his head pounding and his face stiff.   
Oh, right, he fell asleep crying. He had managed to take off his snow clothes before collapsing on his bed and letting the tears fall. Patrick doesn’t think he has cried this much since his last year of college. 

He opened his door, praying for his apartment to be empty. When he saw it was, he didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. He went through his morning routine, cereal and coffee, then brushing his teeth before picking out comfy clothes to lounge in the house in. He turned the TV on, curling in on himself and trying to focus on the movie with no success. He couldn’t stop overthinking last night.

He had seen Pete’s face. He had seen the shock and fall of his face. It seemed genuine but Pete had at least hundreds years of living. Emotions weren’t something people couldn’t learn to fake. 

Besides, if Pete really cared, he wouldn’t have left so easily. It was like he didn’t care at all. That just made Patrick’s heart hurt more. 

Why couldn’t Pete have not kissed him? Now everything is fucked up. In two days, Patrick was going to be stuck with Pete for eternity. With any luck, Pete will send him far away. 

~~

Patrick spent Friday in that manner, depressed and self-hating. Saturday was no better, but he be damned if he spent his last day in his house. He had shit to do today and he was going to put on a brave face and do it. He got dressed, slipping his coat and hat on before leaving his apartment and starting the twenty minute walk to the cemetery. 

He stopped on the way, buying some flowers. He sat down in front of the two graves, placing half the bouquet on each. 

He sat there, talking to his parents about everything. From the deal with Pete to quitting his job to dying tomorrow. It felt nice having someone to talk to, even if they couldn’t respond. Even if you haven’t seen them in seven years. 

He stood up, sighing. It was now or never.

“Pete?” He called out, thankful the cemetery was empty. 

He didn’t appear

“Pete! I’m sorry, alright! I was a dick!” Patrick shouted. 

“You could say that,” A voice said from behind him. Pete was there, his hair still black and looking like it belonged on some twelve year old, his clothes still hideous. Patrick was going to smile at him when he noticed Pete’s expression. He looked pained, like even being near Patrick was hurting him physically. Patrick felt disappointed in himself, he fucking did this.

“Why’d you call me?” Pete asked, meeting Patrick’s eyes. 

Patrick stammered,” U-uh, I wanted to explain myself, if you let me,” 

Pete shrugged, but didn’t leave, so Patrick took it as a sign.

“Uh, I’d rather do it at my apartment, this isn't the best place,” What Patrick meant by that was he was not going to admit he kinda sorta had a crush on Pete in front of his mother and father’s graves. 

Pete shrugged again. Patrick started walking, hoping Pete would follow. His heart squeezed when he heard another pair of footsteps crunching the dead grass. 

The entire walk Patrick tried to figure out how to say what he needed to. 

When they reached Patrick’s apartment, he unlocked the door, not bothering with his shoes but taking off his coat and hat. He sat down on the couch, Pete sitting too but on the other end, as far as he could be from Patrick. Patrick tried to not let this deter him.

“I lived in Chicago until college. For college, I went to NYU. It was far but it had the best course for my major so I went. During my senior year, my parents decided to fly out to surprise me for Christmas. Their plane was caught in a blizzard that started out of nowhere and the pilot lost control; it crashed and no one survived. I’ve been terrified of planes since.I skipped the next month of college to plan their funerals and everything else. I transferred to a university here in Chicago and finished my degree here.

“ I found someone and fell in love with them. Apparently they didn’t feel the same because when they’re ex came back to town they dumped me the same day they got their text. I just barely finished the requirements for my degree and I got a job at the bookstore the end of that year. I used my inheritance to pay off loans. From all of that I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. That’s why I don’t have friends or, because no one could stand to be friends with someone who had panic attacks at doing anything without someone they knew close by and who needed to take pills or else they’d go into a slump for weeks.” Patrick finished quietly. 

“So when I kissed you..” Pete started  
“I thought you were joking,” Patrick finished,”It made sense at the time I spent yesterday crying. Today I realized even if you were joking, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did.”

“You still think it was a joke?” Pete asked, incredulous. Did Patrick not realized how Pete was practically tripping over his heels trying to get him to like him?

“You’re the King of Hell, why would you like someone like me? No, especially someone like me,” Patrick shrugged like it was the most obvious thing ever. Pete sighed, rubbing his face with his hands

Patrick’s an idiot.

Pete stood up, towering over Patrick. He pushed him back on the couch and straddling his hips for the second time in 48 hours.He leaned in, noticing Patrick gulp

“Listen really good, okay?” Pete tilted his head. At Patrick’s nod, he continued,” I like you. I’ve liked you since I met you and no matter what your head is telling you, I am being honest, understand?” 

Patrick went to say something, but Pete cut him off,”You’re not saying anything,” and leaned in, kissing him again. 

Wow, he could really get used to this whole kissing Patrick thing. It’s fucking awesome. Patrick opened his mouth without prompting, which had Pete smirking. He tilted his head, deepening it. Patrick made a noise, raising his hand so one rested on Pete’s hip and the other on his neck. Pete continued for a few more seconds before pulling away a few inches, his stomach tingling when Patrick’s mouth tried to follow, but stopped.

“That any clearer?” Pete asked

Patrick stopped to think, then replied,” Depends.” 

“One?”

Patrick didn’t reply, only used his hand still on Pete’s neck to drag him down again

~~

Patrick glanced at the time.

11:09pm

They had spent the last three hours making out like teenagers in between Inception and whatever movie had come on after, they were a bit busy to notice. Now, though, Patrick’s stomach twisted. He tried not to react, but he guesses he tensed up because Pete lifted his head from where it had been on his lap and looked at him. 

He followed Patrick’s gaze and flinched. 

“Do you use hellhounds?” Patrick asked, a mask now covering his emotions.

“Sometimes,” Pete decided to be honest, though regretting it when Patrick flinched.”But,” He continued,” I was going to use something peaceful, like sleep. You know, fall asleep and just wake up with me down in Hell. It’s easy and it doesn’t hurt.” 

Patrick only nodded

“I would break the contract if I could, but I wrote it so it was unbreakable, there are no loopholes, I made sure of that, though I wish i hadn't,” Pete was angry at himself. 

“Not your fault,” Patrick said quietly,” I think the ‘pass away in sleep’ thing is fine, thank you.” 

Pete only sat on Patrick’s lap, hugging him as he could without hurting him. Patrick rested his head on his shoulder. 

An hour later and Patrick was in his room, staring at his bed from across the room. Pete had promised to wait until he was sure Patrick was asleep to come in.

He sighed. A deal was a deal, he can’t break it now. He was going to miss his apartment, and his (though boring) life. 

He got changed into his pajamas, remembering Pete’s promise that he’d bring all of Patrick’s clothes with him. He went to his medicine cabinet in his bathroom, getting his sleeping pills because he knew there was no way he’d ever go to sleep without it. He took a few, then put it back and got into bed. Sighing as he felt his eyes get heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I wanted to get this up as soon as possible. Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments, I love reading them, you guys are awesome. Hopefully the chapter help to your expectations.


	6. 6

If Patrick was being honest with himself, he expected to be surrounded by hell-fire when he opened his eyes. That’s what they always taught you in church. That Hell was this dark and shadowy place with screams of anguish and everyone’s on fire like all the time.

When Patrick opened his eyes, however, he was greeted with a room that looked straight out of a minimalist furniture catalogue. No, really, everything was so white Patrick’s eyes were burning. 

“He’s awake!” A high voice called out. Patrick turned his head, just noticing he was laying on a -very comfy- bed. He squinted his eyes a bit, trying to focus them to the point when he thought he could make out a dude standing beside the bed, staring at him. The guy looked like a fucking body-builder, okay? Like he had tattoos and shit all over, but is beard and hair color didn’t match, which was odd.

Patrick turned his head to the other side of the room where he heard a door opening. Someone chirped out,”Patty!” 

Pete, oh thank god.

Patrick pushed his arms behind him, forcing himself into a sitting position. Which was useless as a body flung itself onto him, making him fall right back down again. He managed to spit out the mess of black hair in his mouth as Pete hugged him.

“You’ve been asleep for forever,” Pete complained to Patrick through his shirt. 

“It’s been like five hours, Pete,” The body-builder reminded, making his way out the door.

“Yes, so, like I said, forever,” Pete said as the other man left, sitting up but still not straying too far from Patrick. Patrick felt Pete's hand wrap around his hand before Pete started pulling his to the side of the bed, trying to make him get up. Patrick complied, though his still tired body fought him. 

When he stood up, he turned to Pete, scrutinizing him, trying to see anything that was different.

“What?” Pete asked, tilting his head. 

“I was trying to see if anything changed; you said when I woke up I’d be a demon but I don’t feel any different,” Patrick explained, motioning to himself

“You still need to kill a small child to be changed,” A low voice said from the doorway.

Alarmed, Patrick turned on his heel,”What!” He turned to see a lanky guy maybe a year or two younger than him but Patrick wasn’t sure how demon age worked exactly. He had medium brown hair that was styled into some sort of half mohawk-half emo hair, not to mention he was super fucking pale, like, as pale as Patrick

“He’s kidding,” Pete glared at the man,”Not funny Ryan,” 

“I thought it was funny,” Another man said as he walked into the room, throwing an arm around ‘Ryan’, which he promptly shook off. 

“Shouldn’t you be doing work, Brendon?” Pete asked.

“Shouldn't you be running Hell? Or is that my job now that you have a little toy to play with?” Brendon shot back. Patrick shrunk behind Pete a little. Pete narrowed his eyes.

Brendon threw his hands up in surrender,”Fine, fine, I’ll go visit the field of the damned or something, I guess.” He dragged Ryan from the room with him.

“Who were they?” Patrick asked.

“My adviser and his ‘not boyfriend’ AKA Brendon and Ryan,” Pete explained as he motioned for Patrick to follow him out the doorway. “Believe it or not, he’s actually good at his job when he isn't being an asshole.”

“But you are a demon, you probably are still changing though. It takes time, it isn’t instantaneous. Tomorrow you’ll probably wake up and discover that you can see very clearly, the next day you might not have to sleep at all. It’s different for everyone.”

Pete spent the next four hours showing Patrick his ‘house’ or, as Patrick is calling it, ‘huge castle’. The room Patrick woke up in was very modern, and so was most of the castle, but it was also old. Like the walls were made of stone, there were paintings of Pete that looked centuries old, which reminded Patrick of just how old Pete actually was.

He laughed when he told Pete this and Pete replied,”You’re dating an old man, Patty.”

Patrick’s stomach turned funny at that. 

Now, it seemed like it was dinner time when Pete pushed open large double doors to a huge room with a table in the middle that had to be a good thirty feet long with twenty chairs. As soon as Pete sat down at the head of the table and guided Patrick to the seat on the left of him, people started pouring in the room. 

First, it was Brendon and Ryan, who sat on the other side of people, across from Patrick. Then, it was Andy (the bodybuilder who’s name Pete had mentioned when they passed the indoor gym), followed by the others he met on the tour, Joe, Spencer, Jon, Will, Gabe, and some others he hadn’t met yet. 

When people in waiter outfits started bringing out trays of food, Patrick got nervous. What did they even eat in Hell?

“Don’t worry,” Brendon said from across the table,”You missed Souls of the Innocent night, those are Thursdays.”

“Brendon,” Pete said warningly. Patrick thought he saw Ryan’s upper lip twitch slightly

Patrick was relieved to see that when his tray was put down, it was just steak and salad, though as he looked around, everyone had different things on their plates. 

“So, how was everyone’s week?” Pete said loudly, everyone groaning. 

“Is this necessary every Sunday?” Spencer complained from next to Ryan. 

“Yes. Now, because you spoke up, how was your week Spencer?” Pete turned his head towards him.

“Hellish,” Spencer said irritated. 

“He’s been a piss-baby all week,” Brendon cut in

“You wanna fight, Urie?” Spencer stood up.

Brendon followed suit,”Anytime Smith!” 

Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Please sit down, the testosterone is making me want to throw up,” A girl with black hair said from the other end of the table. The two huffed, sitting down, but not before angling their bodies away from each other. 

“Alright…” Pete drawled out,”Gabe, you?” 

“His snake fucking ate someone,” A guy with light brown hair that cut across his face replied before he could.

“You can’t prove shit,” Gabe replied, glaring,” Only speculation at this point,”  
“We haven’t seen them since Thursday, which is the day, coincidentally, you’re huge ass snake got loose!” The other guy shot back

“Fluffy wouldn’t hurt anybody!” 

“I think it ate my flipflops,” Jon said absentmindedly from across the girl with black hair.

“Shut up Jon!” Both the arguing men yelled at him.Jon shrugged, taking a sip from his glass. 

“Alright, congratulations, no dessert tonight,” Pete cut in before the argument continued.

“Yeah right,” Ryan scoffed. 

Without thinking, Patrick said,”Oh god, they’re all twelve year olds,” 

The talking at the table stopped, everyone turning towards Patrick. The girl with black hair looked confused,”Who the fuck are you?” 

“He;s Pete’s new boytoy.” Brendon informed.

“He is not!” 

“I am not!” 

“Yeah he is,” Ryan muttered.

“Shut up Ross,” Pete pointed a finger

“Fucking make me,” Ryan put on an expression like he couldn’t care less. 

“Enough! We’re going to sit in silence- don’t!” Pete shot to Ryan who closed his mouth again,-” And finish this meal.” Pete ordered, picking up his own utensils and angrily shoving a leaf of lettuce into his mouth. 

Gabe let out a low whistle

~~  
“That was…..” Patrick paused, trying to find the right word. ”Chaotic,” He decided on as Pete and he walked back to the room Patrick woke up in earlier, which was apparently now his.

“Sorry, they’re all assholes,” Pete apologized. 

Patrick shrugged,”It was nice. Seeing people act like a family, even if they weren’t by blood.”

“This is you,” Pete stopped, gesturing to Patrick the room he was in earlier. “Uh, goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Pete asked, kissing his cheek before stepping back from the doorway, letting Patrick by.

Pete?” Patrick turned around, stopping Pete from leaving. Patrick leaned over, lifting onto his toes slightly before kissing Pete on the lips. “goodnight,” He said, letting the door close behind him as he went into the room. 

Pete stood there, grinning at the door like a dork when he heard snorting behind him.

“Little shy mortal turned demon has the King pf Hell whipped,” Ryan snickered.

“Fuck off, Ross,” He replied without much conviction, still happy about Patrick willingly kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was shitty, I'm so sorry. It's more a filler since I promised to update again this week and I won't have computer access for another week.


	7. Chapter 7

Patrick woke up the next morning, hands scrambling to cover his ears. He shot up and curled into a ball.

“You get used to it after a day or so,” He heard Ryan say from the doorway. He turned his head, wincing and trying to put as much pressure as he could onto his ears. He heard everything. There were frequencies and shouts and pans hitting together and it was all too much. He couldn’t think and only registered every new sound as they happened.

“What’s happening?” Patrick whimpered as what sounded like s shriek went off his in ear. He saw something fly in the air and land at lap. He shoved his left wear against his shoulder and used that hand to pick up the small objects that looked like pointed mushrooms.

“They’re ear plugs, they’ll block out most of the stuff until you get used to it,” Ryan explained, but somehow managed to make it seem like it was paining him at the same time, even rolling his eyes at the end. Patrick shoved them into his ear quickly, desperately needing safe haven from the never ending array of noises going through his skull. 

When he had them secured, he sat back and let out a sigh of relief. Ryan scoffed and picked at his nails.

“Thank you, so much,” Patrick said sincerely to Ryan, who shot his head up to look at him, shock expressed on his face

Ryan flushed, scratching the back of his neck,”Th-They’re from Pete, not me. Go thank him.” The sound was slightly muffled, but the ear plugs blocked the frequencies and most of the random noises that incapacitated him moments earlier. 

“Where is he? Pete, I mean?” Patrick asked, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up.  
Ryan straightened, replying,”In a meeting; Pete spent a week away, he has a shit ton of stuff to go over, Brendon included,” Ryan muttered the last bit, his lips pursed

Patrick flushed at that. He supposes that bit was his fault,. He was the one that asked for Pete as his friend without really considering that Pete had responsibilities.

“It’s not your fault. Pete could have denied you your wish, he wanted to. And he’s happy right now, more so than I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve known him or three centuries.” Ryan said, then flushed again, like he didn’t want to say what he just had. 

Patrick just smiled. 

~~

“How are your ears?” Pete asked as he walked into the library where Patrick was curled onto a couch, reading Zhuangzi. Pete stopped and tilted his head,”Never took you for a whole 4th century literature nerd.”

Patrick shrugged,”It’s my favorite book.” He sat up straighter,”But my ears are fine, thanks for the plugs. How was the meeting?” 

“Boring,” Pete sighed dramatically, collapsing half on Patrick, half on the couch. “I never knew how much Brendon could bitch about one thing.”

“Heard that you fucker,” The quiff-haired man retorted as he passed the door. Pete got up and sat down on the couch, eye contact not leaving the entrance. 

Pete squinted at the now-empty doorway,”...I still don’t know how he does that. Always appearing when he’s mentioned and shit, it’s freaky.” 

“But anyway,” Pete turned back to him,”What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really know what there is to do,” Patrick replied, looking at the page number before closing the book. No sooner had he put it down on the table than Pete had taken his hand, dragging him from the room.

“Where are we going?” Patrick asked, stumbling and trying to keep up.

“On an adventure!” Pete looked over his shoulder and grinned. That really shouldn't have made Patrick give in like he did.

~~

 

an ‘adventure’ was quickly turning out to be too much.

“And this is the fields of the damned, AKA all the terrible people go there,” Pete explained as they walked by a gate about thirty feet high with barbed wire at the top. Patrick heard a scream of pain and a laugh that sounded like the short guy from dinner the night before, the one that sat next to another man with very dark greasy hair.

Pete’s eyes widened, grabbing Patrick’s shoulders and steering him away from the gate, down the path they had followed out of the house,”Fuck, I forgot it was Frank’s day.” 

“Uh, let’s keep going; Elysium is very pretty, let’s look at that.” Pete rambled, hoping to distract Patrick from the distancing sound of pain and insane laughter. 

“Elysium? I thought that was in Greek Mythology,” Patrick commented.   
Pete sighed in relief at the change of subject,”It is, but it’s an idea in every religion. Heaven, Elysium, Paradise, Nirvana, it’s all the same thing, different groups have different names for it. Same thing will Hell. There’s the general concept, good people get a good afterlife, bad people get a bad afterlife, but most just get a plain afterlife. That’s Asphodel.” 

“So most people go to Asphodel?” Patrick asked

“Most fear death, so they never truly live. People like mediocre lives, they repeat that in the afterlife.” Pete replied

“If stuff like that existed, wouldn’t you technically be Hades?” Patrick was curious, he was getting answers to the things that people spend their entire lives trying to answer.

“Yes. Technically, all of them are. Most still do their job, but they get easily discouraged. Who wants to drive the sun across the sky everyday when modern science tells them it’s just the Earth spinning? Who wants to create beautiful dreams for the same humans that stay up until three am and wake up at six? I’m one of the few still needed, that’s how I’ve survived so long. Though Christianity brushed me off as some being with malicious intentions, so many people thinking I’m still real keeps me going,” Pete responded. 

He let Patrick think over that until they reached the beautiful gate. It was pure white, no big, ugly gate surrounding it. There was harmolodic music from farther inside. He took Patrick’s hand, tugging him through the gate with him. 

Patrick was amazed. There were flowers everywhere, the greenest grass he had ever seen. Everything Patrick could see that wasn’t nature was pure white. Pure white houses, pure white clothes People walked around with content expressions on their faces, happily greeting Pete and Patrick as they walked by. 

“It’s nice here…” Patrick commented, looking around.

“I suppose,” Pete shrugged. 

“What’s that mean?” Patrick turned to him, cocking his head slightly.

“I don’t know,”Pete shrugged again,”Everything’s perfect here. It’s bound to be boring sooner or later. There’s rarely anyone new in here. The same people for all of eternity? Unless you go for reincarnation, you’re stuck in the same loop everyday, I’d go insane.”

“I guess that’s true,” Patrick said as nothing more than to respond, lost for words of anything else. 

“It’s almost dinnertime, we should head back,” Pete announced. Patrick nodded, following him back out the gate. The farther away they went, the more Pete seemed to cheer up. He even grabbed Patrick’s hand, swinging their arms between them. 

Dinner wasn’t as eventful as the night before. And, though Brendon claimed,” humans were on the menu” that night, Patrick was served pasta and soup. 

He had kissed Pete goodnight again, going to bed. A few hours later, he woke up thirsty. He really didn’t feel like getting up, but his throat was killing him. Patrick stood up, making his way to the kitchen that was empty. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet, opening the gigantic fridge and pouring some water from the filter. He made it down the large main hall when he heard voices from the opposite hall of the one leading to his room. Patrick glanced between the two, sighing and tip-toed over to where the voices were, flattened against the corner from the hall. 

“Get the fuck out, right now.” Patrick heard Pete’s voice, but it was different, it was cold and scary. Patrick shuddered at the thought of that this is what Pete sounds like when he wasn’t around Patrick. It was dark and downright evil tone, something fitting for the King of Hell, but not fitting for Pete.

“Oh come on, I just wanna meet the little bitch that skipped the first step of being a demon, It’s really unfair that he managed to jump start the process, not spending half a century being tortured like all the rest of us,” Another voice replied, sneering. 

“He didn’t deserve that. But you did; you were an awful person. If it wasn’t for Mikey you’d still be down there.” Pete hissed. Patrick felt the room drop a few degrees, like Pete’s anger affected the temperature itself.

“And yet you still took me out, see how that works. I’m just saying people will get pissed when they find out how their King favored a human over all of them.” 

“And I will tell them the truth, something that probably doesn’t process to you. Besides, he’s not just some lowly demon,” Pete scoffed.

“Now,” Pete continued,”I’ll give you ten seconds to get out of my house before I separate your body from your head and throw you to the fucking hell hounds in the pit. Leave.” Pete snarled. Patrick heard shuffling and a body brushed past his hiding place. The guy turned back, surprise on the his face. When he saw it was Patrick, he smirked and continued on his way, the heavy door slamming behind him. 

“Go to bed, Patty,” Pete sighed from behind him. Patrick jumped, turning around. He noticed Pete’s stressed expression and wa going to ask what the hell just happened when Pete met his eyes with a pleading expression. Patrick closed his mouth, shoulders slumping and nodded, dragging his feet back to his room.

He had nightmares all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, here's that chapter about half a week late, sorry about that. Uh if you guys want, I made a tumblr for you guys to talk to me on. It's twotomatoidiots. Feel free to ask me about stuff for the story, or just to talk...or to bitch if I don't update for a while


	8. Chapter 8

Patrick didn’t need to be waken the next morning, having been awake most the night with nightmares. He opened his heavy oak door with ease, surprised at the lightness of it that wasn’t there yesterday. He stumbled his way to the kitchen when he heard some people moving around different areas of the castle. He slumped into the seat, hoping his posture might deter people from talking to him.

That hope was thrown out the window when William and Gabe walked into the dining room, William going off into the kitchen doors while Gabe sat next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder and tsk-ing. 

“You should have just stayed in bed, mi amigo,” Gabe said, reaching forward with his freakishly long arms to grab his glass of water and take a sip,

“How’d you know?” Patrick muttered, putting no effort in his speech.

“I have my ways,” Gabe said knowingly. Patrick met his eyes, raising an eyebrow. Gabe broke his facade with a sheepish expression,”Alright, I was at the other end of the hall.”

“He was terrifying, I’ve never seen him like that. I mean, I haven't known him that long, sure, but he never even hinted that he could be like that,” Patrick admitted, picking at his nails, a bad habit he picked up from his school days when he had terrible anxiety. 

“He usually isn’t, but Bob has a way of getting under everyone’s skin, Gerard even broke his nose once,” Gabe confessed, finally taking his arm off Patrick’s shoulder and grabbing the plate and muffin William handed him, thanking him with a smile. Gabe pushed the muffin towards Patrick, obviously getting that he wasn’t hungry, but not enough to leave him alone. Even so, Patrick picked it up, ripping tiny pieces off and chewing on them slowly like it pained him

“Bob?” Patrick’s head lifted, confused.

William huffed, hitting the back of Gabe’s head,”What did you tell him?” 

“Nothing,” Gabe frowned, rubbing the back of his head where William had hit,”That really hurt.”

“Baby,” William scoffed, eating a piece of bacon from his plate. 

“Only for you,” Gabe smirked, dodging William’s hand this time, instead pulling William into a forced hug.

Patrick couldn’t help but smile a bit, it was too cute not to. 

When Pete shuffled into the room, Patrick glanced back down, momentarily getting a glance at him and noticing the black circles under his eyes, even more so than normal. He took his spot at the table, right next to Patrick and for the first time since they went to Paris, Patrick felt more comfortable away from Pete than near him. Pete said nothing, but a servant Patrick hadn’t been told the name of brought him a plate before scurrying away as fast as he had come.

Patrick finished his muffin, pushing the chair back as he got up. He pushed it back in place, before walking away and pretending not to notice Pete’s flinch. He walked as confident as he could, but when he stepped out the doorway, his previous posture replaced the faux one. 

~~  
Patrick was in the music room when Pete found him. Patrick was on the drums, taking his anger out of the tom-toms and snares, smashing the cymbals whenever it so pleased him to do so. 

“Pat, can we talk?” Pete asked, quietly, but just loud enough to be heard over the drumming. Patrick’s brows furrowed and he played harder, trying to block Pete out.Pete sighed, snapping his fingers and the drum sticks disappeared from Patrick’s hand, causing his to slam his fist into the metal rim of the snare. Patrick cursed, cuddling his fist to his chest and Pete saw the area had gone red; Patrick’s eyes snapped to him, pissed off.

“What the hell!” Patrick stood up. 

“I need to talk to you,” Pete replied, trying not to flinch. He was the King of Hell, sure, but Patrick’s glare could kill even him. 

Patrick walked out from behind the drum, walking towards the door,”Well I don’t want to talk to you.”

Pete grabbed his wrist, pulling Patrick to him and kissing him deeply, waiting until Patrick stopped struggling and started reciprocating to pull away. 

“Will you talk to me now?” Pete asked, resting his forehead on Patrick’s.

“That was unfair,” Patrick panted. Pete shrugged, taking his wrist and lacing their fingers together, pulling Patrick to his room. Pete opened the door, pulling Pat inside before shutting it and leading him to his bed. He sat down and Patrick followed silently.

“So I assume Gabe already told you that the guy from last night was Bob?” at Patrick’s nod, Pete continued,”Well, it’s kind of a long story. Bob, Gerard and Mikey all made their deal at the same time. Mikey wished for Gerard, who was a write at the time, to be successful. Gerard wished for his brother’s soul back. Of course that didn’t work, it counteracted. So Bob, their friend, made a deal that in exchange for his soul, Mikey and Gerard would die at the same time.

“Sibling’s needing to stay together or something like that. My kingdom was low populated at that time. It was the 1700’s, the plague was gone, people were dying at a regular state and I needed more souls.I accepted all their deals. Bob got seventy-five years in the pit, Mikey and Gerard got fifty. Bob was...changed..in the pit. It doesn’t happen all time time; usually people have the same personality when they come out as they went in. Bob came out selfish and arrogant, rude and mean to everyone. He was only released from the pit when Mikey heard I had him for twenty-five years longer than he and Gee. When they learned what he was like, they stopped talking to him. Bob got worse so I put him in charge of the souls who are truly evil: murderers, rapists, and all those alike,” Pete explained. Patrick was nodding along. 

“So, last night, he got mad that I didn’t put you in the pit like them. That he got seventy-five years of cruel torture and you got none.”

“You said I wasn’t some lowly demon,” Patrick recalled.

Pete flinched,”Uh, that's why I was at that meeting yesterday. You...really aren’t normal; you didn’t change like the rest of them. They all changed over the span of a few weeks, you’re changing in the span of a few days. I heard about the hearing, I saw your strength today at the table, you almost flipped the table trying to stand up. Hell, Ryan’s that strong but it took him two months to get his strength to a level you’re at in two days. I really don’t think you’re normal… I just don’t know why yet. But for now, Brendon and I think it’s best if you are my unofficial second in command. Until we figure this out, people might come after you.

“They won’t if they think you’re high up in rank. But if I’m right and you continue to develop like this, I don’t know what we’ll do..” Pete trailed off, looking straight ahead.

“So, you’re calling me a freak?” Patrick asked lightly

Pete cracked a smile.

”If that’s what you wanna go with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but I promised to have one up by Wednesday and look what day it is! 
> 
> ps- somethings are in work, more one shots, maybe a collab? ;)  
> feel free to talk to me on my tumblr: twotomatoidiots


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy fuck,” Ashley whispered, then she looked at him and widened her eyes, grabbing his right arm and dragging him to the doorway, shoving him out of the door

Patrick went to bed, confused as ever from what Pete told him, but only slept a total of thirty minutes before his eyes snapped open, fully awake with no sluggishness. It was eleven thirty ad night and Patrick spent his time walking around, exploring the castle that seemed to grow in size every time Patrick went wandering. As he turned halls, not even paying attention to where he was going, he noticed the corridors change slowly from many doors to none, only long hallway after long hallway to go down. He had a nagging that he should go back to his room, but something else kept his feet moving. 

He noticed the stone walls slowly gaining a low green color, until he turned a corner into yet another hallway and saw the walls covered in plants. There were wines and moss and even tiny flowers spiraling out of the greenery. A low buzzing began in his ears, he stretched his jaw, massaged his ears, things that would normally get rid of the frequencies he often heard. (more so than others, he learned at an early age). It only seemed to make the noises increase. 

He turned once more, but instead of another hallway, it was a vast, open room. He could see things like animal skulls and other things on a wooden table in the northeast corner, things growing under a light in the corner across from it. From Patrick’s peripheral vision, he could see bookshelves and what looked like an old, wooden, large dresser with many small, square drawers. When he glanced to his other side, he noticed a dip in the floor, but a snap in the room and a wisp of orange told him that there was a small fire burning in it. The middle of the room was open, but there were strange carvings everywhere: on the wall, the floor, and the ceiling, impressively so for a room made of stone.

Patrick looked around, not seeing anyone else in the room. He stepped a foot in, still glancing from side to side. As soon as his foot hit the first stone, thie frequencies increased. 

“So it came from this room…?” Patrick thought out loud. He tried to narrow in on the noise, but frequencies are tricky bastards and they tend to jump around the room. He walked in, first trying the fire pit. He heard nothing, so he headed to the corner with the table, still cautious of anyone who might come in and see him. Hearing nothing in that corner, nor the one with the the plants under the growing light. He headed to the last corner, the ones with the bookshelves and the cabinet.

As he walked closer, the frequencies turned from a buzzing to a little melody, something like high-pitched humming. He opened drawer after drawer, seeing only different jewelry and colored rocks and gems, every color possible filling the drawers. There must have been at least a couple hundred in all the drawers together. Nothing seemed to make the noise, so he headed onto the bookshelf, his hand automatically going for the last book on the shelf without thinking, pulling it out. It was old, bound in leather and had a lock with no keyhole on it. He turned it around in hsi hands, the noises in his ear increasing as he looked it over. 

“What’re you doing!” A voice called. Patrick jumped, the book flying from his hands and landing on the stone floor with a loud thud in the deadly silent room. He looked to the doorway, where a girl with blue hair was staring there, glaring at him, with her hands on her hips.

“Ashley?” Patrick questioned, leaning over to pick the book up. He brushed it off, the book was old enough and Patrick worked in a bookstore, he had an appreciation for a book this old that looked this good. She walked over, her hair flying over her shoulder, stopping in front of him.

“Why are you here? How did you find this place?”She asked him, narrowing her eyes

Patrick furrowed his brow,”I hear frequencies a lot, so I heard one and followed it because it wouldn’t go away. I ended up here and it seems to be coming from this book, but it’s locked…” Patrick asked. Ashley’s eyes glanced down, widening when she notice what was in his hands. 

“...It led you to THAT book?” Ashley asked,still staring at it.

Patrick was getting uncomfortable. From the few times he had talked to her, she seemed nice, but she’s scaring him now. ”Yes?” 

“This isn’t..possible…” Ashley seemed to be in deep thought, I thought they were all wiped out…”

“Who was wiped out?” Patrick asked. 

Ashley didn’t answer, instead asking him,”What’s your last name?” 

“Stump,” Patrick answered, getting annoyed. He answered all her question, why are none of his getting the same courtesy?

“With a ‘ph’ at the end?” She asked. Patrick did a double take. It was true, that’s how his name was supposed to be spelled, but it confused too many people, so he dropped the ‘h’ when his parents died.

“Technically, yes,” Patrick replied slowly

“Holy fuck,” Ashley whispered, then she looked at him and widened her eyes, grabbing his right arm and dragging him to the doorway, shoving him out of the door.

“You gotta go,” She says, her hand motioning in an overdramatic swirl, and before patrick can say anything, the area in front of him slowly hardens into more walling, no doorway there. Patrick pushed on it, pounded his fist, but it was as solid as the other walls in the castle. He huffed, turning on his heel and headed back the way he came, hoping not to get lost.

~~

“Are you sure?” Pete asked, his eyes not breaking contact with Ashley’s.

“Sure as I’ll ever be; but, it explains everything, doesn’t it?” Ashley stated. There was no room to argue; it DID explain everything.

“Well, where do we continue from here?” Pete questioned, unsure.

“You should probably tell him; if this was me, I’d want to know,” Ashley explained. “But, break it lightly, you can be known to be...rash,” She winced. It was true that he acted on instinct. Pete had a lot of heart, and that was good, but he sometimes let it get in the way of his work, which often made things difficult for the rest of those working for him.

“alright, thanks Ashley, I’ll think about this,” Pete nodded, and Ashley took this as a dismissal, leaving the room, something akin to worry blossoming in her lower stomach.

It she was right, this could either be amazing, or terribly, terribly wrong


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How fucking dare you.”
> 
> “Huh?” Pete did a double take. he ran through all of the possibilities, all of the things he’s done that Patrick might not like...oh, shit, shit, shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long author's note at the end, just a notice. Hope you enjoy the chapter:)  
> One note: my shift key was acting up. sorry if there are no capitals in some spots, I tried to catch them, but more likely than not, some slipped my notice.

Patrick was waiting for Pete outside his bedroom that night,shifting between his feet every few minute. When Pete turned down the hall, Patrick waited until Pete was in front of him to start talking. “I’m pretty sure Ashley told you already told you, but let me first say that I really didn't mean to walk into her secret lair or whatever that was. I was just walking around and I heard this noise and it sounded like it came from that room so I followed it and-”

Pete held up a hand,”Pat, it’s okay, Ashley explained it to me; no big deal.” 

Patrick didn't really believe him, but he let it go for the time being, noticing for the first time the tiredness in Pete’s eyes. 

Pete smiled a little, kissing Patrick, then went in his room, shutting the door behind him without another word to Patrick. 

~~

Patrick waited around the corner from the long chain of hallways this time, keeping an eye out for Ashley> When a familiar shade of blue hair turned the corner. Ashley met his eyes, her widening, and she turned on her heels, rushing away in the opposite way Patrick. 

Ashley was only an inch or so shorter than him, making it easy to catch up with her. He grabbed her arm, pulling light enough to force her back, but not hard enough to hurt her. “Ashley, I really need to ask you about something-”

“Sorry, can’t talk, i gotta go...uh… pick some herbs from outside,” She said, then winced when Patrick stared at her

“It’s almost midnight.”

“Yeah! That’s the best time to go do it, actually! The moon light absorbs into the herbs making the properties different, hence the herb has different uses, it’s quite interesting actually-” Ashley babbled.

Patrick sighed, taking in her outfit,”You’re wearing footie pajamas.”

Ashley looked down and cursed. She met his eyes again, a pleading look apparent,”I really can’t talk about it, I’m not supposed to tell you anything! Patrick, please!” 

“Who told you you can’t?” Patrick asked, narrowing his eyes

“Pe-No one,” Ashley winced. That was quite possibly the worst thing she could have said. She could have lied, said anyone, like Ryan, for example, Patrick probably would have believed that. Now, though, he knew Pete told her not to talk about it. Fuck, she was so going to be sent to field duty for a few weeks at least.

Patrick let go of her arm, barely registering that he was still holding onto it. He turned around, heading down the halls, hearing Ashley call out,”Patrick! Don’t!”, but continued anyway.

He reached the familiar doors to pete’s room, using the side of his fist to create a harder knock. Pete opened the door, the dark circles under his eyes slightly worse than just a few hours ago; pete yawned, managing to get out a,”Patrick? What are you-” before Patrick shoved him with his hands by the shoulders backwards into the room. he shut the door behind him, glaring at Pete.

Pete was confused. He was trying to figure out a way to tell Patrick about what happened since he first turned Patrick away earlier (he felt a little bad about that), but now the person he’d been thinking about was here, glaring at him with his jaw straining and his arms crossed. Pete normally wasn’t intimidated, it came with the territory of being King of Hell, but Patrick had the uncanny ability to make him want to duck and cover from something as simple as a glare.

Pete snapped to attention when Patrick opened his mouth.

“How fucking dare you.”

“Huh?” Pete did a double take. he ran through all of the possibilities, all of the things he’s done that Patrick might not like...oh, shit, shit, shit!

Pete let out a nervous laugh, taking a step away from Patrick, whose knuckles were turning white from the way his fists were clenched. “Look, I can explain-”

And, for the third time that night, Patrick cut someone off,”No, ‘m sick of people explaining shit to me. Especially after they’ve kept it a secret. Why the fuck does it matter what my last name is? Why the fuck can’t you look at me in the eye for more than a minute at a time? And what the fuck is so important the Ashley can’t tell me, ordered not to do so, by YOU?” Patrick was damn near yelling by the end, slightly out of breath and seriously pissed off.

“I swear Patrick, I will tell you soon, but right now, it’s too dangerous for you to know. I’m sorry, I really wish I could, but believe me when I say, I just can’t,” Pete whispered, taking a step forward and taking the side of Patrick’s face in his hand. Patrick’s eyes momentarily softened, before he realized what Pete was doing.

He grabbed Pete’s arm, spatting out,”Don’t use your stupid charm on me,” then turn around and opened the door, letting it slam behind him when he left.

Pete looked at the door for a moment before noticing a burning sensation on his wrist. He glanced down, seeing a bubbling burn mark in the shape of a handprint, wrapped all around his wrist. He watched it heal, going from bubbling to blisters, then to red patch until his skin was back to normal.

~~. 

Patrick went to bed that night, pissed off. He managed a full three hours, his eyes no longer staying shut for more than the time it takes one to blink. He kicked the covers off, groaning. His phone proclaimed that it was 4:29am.

After more than twenty minutes staring into the blank space of his ceiling, he heard his door creak slightly. He pushed himself up, glancing across the room where he saw Brendon standing, shuffling on his feet. 

“Brendon?” Patrick whispered. Brendon nodded in response, Patrick thought he saw his arm fly up to his face,rub across his eyes for a second, too dark for him to be able to fully see. “Why are you in here? It’s like 4:30 in the morning?”

Patrick was startled to hear a sniffling come from the other boy. “Uh...I-I don’t know, i just thought I’d go for a stroll around.. you know, can-can’t sleep…” Brendon shrugged half heartedly. Patrick sighed.

“Brendon, come here,” Patrick shifted over to the left side of his bed, patting the right side. Brendon slowly walked over, climbing next to Patrick, then letting his head fall to the side, onto Patrick’s shoulder, Patrick feeling the shakes of Brendon’s body. 

“Hey... hey... Bren, what’s wrong?” Patrick asked, using the nickname everyone else did for the odd demon, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Brendon shaked harder and patrick felt the right shoulder of his shift getting wet.

“I-I’m just being stupid, I don’t know,” Brendon laughed, but it was less like his usual joyful self and more self-depreciated. 

“You can talk to me; so come on, what’s up?” 

“So, you know about Ryan and I,” Brendon didn’t give him a chance to answer before continuing,”Well, I got to thinking about how pretty he is, and how I’m...not. And how he’s this sophisticated, smart, kind person and I’m just some kid that never grew up. I mean, what does he even like about me? I know i annoy him. I’m too energetic, I’m clingy, and ‘ve never read Dostoevsky or Victor Hugo; I can’t appreciate a Monet or Van Gogh because I get too distracted by the colors. I’m nothing like him and he’s gonna realize that soon enough a-and then, he’ll leave me…” Brendon got quiet near the end.

Patrick took a second to think before responding,”...Brendon, i haven’t been here long, so forgive me if I misspeak, but it seems like Ryan’s just as infatuated with you as it you are with him. He’s always sending you a tiny smile when you aren’t looking. He leans into you clinging to him- don’t give me that look, I’ve seen it- and always looks for you when he enters a room. Trust me, this isn’t just some one-sided relationship doomed to fail.” 

Brendon lifted his head from patrick’s shoulder, no longer shaking, and stared at him. Then, suddenly without warning, jumped forward and wrapped his arms around patrick’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Patrick, really.”

“You honestly think i care about all of that?” A new voice came from the doorway. Brendon let go and they both looked over to the doorway, where Ryan’s lanky figure was standing. “You think I care that you don’t read stories from dead author’s or look at art from dead painters? They’re from my time, I grew up with that stuff, you didn’t. even if you had, and didn’t like them, I wouldn’t put that in front of my feelings for you,” Ryan finished. Brendon bit his lip before jumping up from the bed, running over and kissing Ryan, the both of them starting to get a little too heated for Patrick’s taste in his room.

“Alright, alright, not in my room, please,” Patrick coughed. They broke apart, looking over at Patrick. Brendon smiled,”Thanks Patrick,” and Ryan echoed it, quieter, too busy with looking at his boyfriend. 

As they left, Patrick could have swore he heard Ryan whisper,”If I’m pretty, then you’re fucking beautiful.”

Patrick was glad something turned out well for someone tonight. He checked his phone again, 5:01am.

Fuck, he still wasn’t tired.

~~

Pete was outside his door the next morning. or, more specifically, propped up against the wall right outside the doorway of his room asleep, his legs tripping Patrick when he walked out to go to breakfast. Patrick caught himself, straightened up. Pete shook himself into consciousness, blinking in quick succession when he stared up at Patrick. Realizing who it was, he stood up quickly, brushing his pants off and grinning.

“So,” Pete started,” I was thinking we could go shopping today? You’ve been wearing the same jeans for the past two days and i saw your closet before we came here, you didn’t have a lot to begin with.” When Patrick went to open his mouth, Pete grinned,”Great! Be ready in two hours!” Then, in a very Pete-like manner, quickly headed down the corridor before Patrick could get a syllable out.  
~~

“I need you to hold my hand,” Pete started, holding out his hand. 

Patrick had met him in front of the formal meeting room (most meetings tended to take place in the dining hall between mouthfuls of food and Gabe screaming. This room, however, was apparently reserved for meetings with Ryan and Pete, or meetings between Pete and his high-ranking officials. Patrick’s never seen the inside.)

Patrick sent a look at Pete,”Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Pete pouted,”I meant so we can get going; teleporting only works when I’m touching the people coming with me. I’m frankly disappointed that that's the best pickup line you think I have, I’ll have you know-” 

Patrick shoved his hand into Pete’s, groaning when Pete grinned brightly at him. “I’m still mad at you,” Patrick warned.

Pete shrugged,”Whatever, Patty.”

And, much like that morning, Patrick didn’t get a word out before the familiar swirling was brought on, less harsh than before, when Patrick was human. He looked around, taking in the familiar streets of center city Chicago, breathing in the familiar buildings stretched above his head. 

“Come on,” Patrick was dragged along, barely noticing the grip still occupying his hand. Patrick noticed when the stopped in front of the familiar tall skyscraper, and the mall beside it.

“Water Tower? Really?” Patrick raised an eyebrow, but inside he was screaming. There was a reason he rarely shopped in there, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he struggled with money since his parents’ accident. The building was fucking huge, about six floors more than any mall had the right to have, and Patrick’s ever crippling-fear of heights would cause him to flinch if he went up further than the second floor, maybe third if he absolutely needed to.

~~

They had been to every male-shop between the first and (after enough begging from Pete) third floor. Patrick’s legs usually would have been burning at this point, had he been human. He doesn’t think he’s walked this much in probably years. Pete hummed at the shopping bags that occupied all of the space on both of his arms, then at the seven or eight Patrick was carrying.

“I think we have enough,” Pete announced.

“Oh thank God.” Patrick sighed, his peripheral vision catching Pete’s small smile at him.  
“Ready to go back?” Pete asked. Patrick didn’t reply, just stuck his hand out, letting Pete grab it and close his eyes so the swirling wasn’t as bad. 

He opened his eyes to the familiar corridor in front of the dining hall. He looked around, but was alone, no Pete in sight. He saw Gabe and William heading down the corridor, laughing, when they noticed him.

“Hey, back from your lover’s getaway? It’s dinner time,” Gabe informed, pulling the door open, waiting for William to walk inside for himself to follow, holding the door for Patrick.

“Yeah, Pete was with me, but he just...disappeared?” Patrick ended it with a question

William shrugged,”He does that; Boss-man has some shit to sort out apparently.”

~~

Pete fell into his chair, rubbing his eyes, looking at Ashley after,”Find anything out?”

“If by ‘Anything’ you mean everything, then, yes,” Ashley replied, not waiting for an invitation to sit in the chair across the desk from Pete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I knew I would be deleting the chapter notice I posted, I wanted to make sure the following people got to see my replies  
> SelketsChild   
> So sorry for your loss. I love this story, and am excited for more, when you're ready! <3
> 
> Thank you so much!
> 
> amberdr00  
> I'm sorry :( you are a great writer  
> Thank you! 
> 
> JoshDunForHands   
> my condolences, take as much time as you need
> 
> Thank you for understanding:)
> 
>  
> 
> Seraap   
> Take your time darling. We'll be here when you come back
> 
> Aww thank you so much!
> 
> thnks_pete   
> aw i'm so sorry for you and your family's loss. no worries, take your time. <3
> 
> Thanks for understanding!
> 
> They're probably one of the reasons I updated today. Another thank you to each other them and I wish I could say more than that. Feel free to give feedback and any criticism on the chapter


	11. Chapter 11

“Merry Christmas, Patty,” Patrick heard as he opened his eyes (he doesn’t really get tired anymore, but sleeping helps pass the time). Pete was standing at the end of his bed, hands behind his back.

Panic flooded Patrick,”What? It’s Christmas? I didn’t get you anything!”

Pete grinned,”No problem! This is more of a ‘forgive me’ present than an actual Christmas one, anyway.”

“Uh, you didn’t need to,” Patrick said, stepping out of bed. Pete kissed his cheek and shoved the small present box from behind his back into Patrick’s hand. Pete nodded when Patrick went to unwrap it. He lifted the lid on it, the only thing in the box was a paper. 

In pen, it had,’check the music room’, on it. Patrick raised an eyebrow at Pete,”Should I go look now, or?” 

“Yeah! Let’s go!” Pete grabbed his wrist, tugging him along down the corridor. Pete stopped in front of the familiar doors to the music room and gestured for Patrick to open them. Patrick grabbed the door handle, pulling and holding it open for Pete as he walked in. He only managed one step into the room before he stopped, Pete colliding into his back.

“Is...Is that a Gibson Les Paul?” Patrick stared on in wonder at the new guitar hanging on the wall. He walked over, carefully taking it down from the wall. He took off the red ribbon on it, and held it, marveling in the way it fit into his hands

“It’s a 1959,” Pete said, and Patrick almost had a heart attack when he almost dropped it. 

“Pete!” Patrick exclaimed,” This guitar is worth like five thousand dollars, why?” 

“Because you deserve it for putting up with me. Now, come on, Christmas we all eat together, which means we have to wait for everyone to be in the dining hall. And last year, Brendon was late and Gabe almost killed him, so, it’s safer if we get there on time.” Pete explained, taking Patrick’s hand and they walked together down the halls to the dining hall. 

They opened the doors and everyone was sitting there, some out of breath and glancing at Gabe from the corner of their eyes. Patrick was guessing they ran as to not piss Gabe off. Pete and Patrick sat down, and the plates were brought out. It was a lot more formal than their normal breakfast. 

~~  
“So, this isn’t really a present, but you deserve to know,” Pete said as he led Patrick down a hallway. Patrick slowly realized these were the hall that led to Ashley’s weird room.

“Pete, I don’t wanna go back there,” He said, noticing a slow numbing feeling in the back of his brain. They turned another hall and the numbing turned into a buzzing. 

“Trust me, you will.” Pete replied. They walked on, Patrick’s buzzing becoming loudr, like it had the other time. By the time they were down the hall from the room, Patrick was walking in front of Pete, a strange urge to get to the room. 

“Hey Ashley,” Pete greeted as they entered the room. Ashley nodded back in reply, getting up and meeting them in front of the bookcase. Ashley handed Patrick the book, the book vibrating against his hands. He missed the look Pete and Ashley shared, staring at the book when the buzzing became dim and louder at the same time. 

“Patrick, open it,” Pete said.

“There’s no keyhole on the lock…” Patrick replied, confused. 

“Just...put your hand over the lock,” Ashley instructed. Patrick did no, and felt confused when something shifted under his hand. Then a searing pain moved throughout his palm, causing him to drop the book.

"Fuck!” Patrick cradled his hand to his chest. Pete took his hand, turning it over to look at his palm, noticing a pattern on his hand slowly disappearing.

“What the hell was that!” Patrick yelled, yanking his palm back from Pete. 

“Pete… the book…” Ashley whispered. Pete shot her a confused look before looking at the ground.

The book was on the floor, open.

Patrick looked down too, then leaned over and picked it up, eyes widening at the words that shouldn’t look familiar, but do. He flipped to the first page, noticing the only words in the page were in the top right corner, and looked suspiciously like a scribbled,’Stumph’.

“So, I think we should tell you why we brought you here,” Pete started, waiting for Patrick to look at him before continuing,”For centuries there was this powerful witch family. They were one of the strongest I had ever seen, I asked them for help on things I wasn’t sure how to deal with. I’m king of the dead and demons, but they were practically ruling witches and warlocks. But, eventually, the family slowly fell off radar. They wanted to be normal people, live among humans. I thought that they had all been killed during the witch hunts. But apparently I was wrong. A few years ago I heard about a plane crash and how two people on board may have been a witch and warlock, but I never had time to look into it.” 

Patrick froze,”Pete, what are you saying…”

“Patrick,” Pete started,” I think you’re a warlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small chapter because i havent updated in forever and i feel shitty about that. I also am working on one shots so check those and and leave a comment, criticism, the like.  
> Feel free to follow me on tumblr, twotomatoidiots, and talk to me  
> Till next time  
> -tti


	12. Chapter 13

“What the hell do you mean you think I’m a warlock! Pete, if this is one of your practical jokes, I swear…” Patrick trailed off to let his threat sink in.

Ashley and Peter shared a look before Ashley spoke up,”Patrick, this isn’t a joke. When Pete first brought you here, I thought something was off about you but I pegged it out to the fact that I hadn’t been near humans in a few decades. Then, I went to the human world for a day to get some supplies and I noticed that none of them gave off the same aura that you do. It reminded me of a warlock aura, but it seemed too powerful and the way you acted made me think it was just a fluke… until you came here and said that you heard something coming from a book. I did some digging and I found a Stumph family tree and well….I think you should look at this.” She went over to her desk and picked up a large leather bound book. She flipped through the discolored pages until she reached near the end. 

She held it out to Patrick and he took it from her, scanning the page. His heart dropped and slowed a few beats when he noticed that at the top of the page was his mother and father’s names, along with a portrait of them, and below with a line connecting them, was a portrait of Patrick when he couldn’t have been more than ten. He only knew it was him due to the fact that his mother loved photo albums and it was one of the few things Patrick could stand to look at anymore.

“But why wouldn’t they have mentioned it? I mean, 19 years and not a single word about any of this…” Patrick whispered in disbelief, finally looking up from the book. 

“After the witch burnings, we weren’t exactly safe. Even today there are very few places where we could display even the tiniest bits of magic. Making things disappear? Illusions. Healing a serious illness? You’re chased out of the town, or even the country. And, that’s just low-profile warlocks and witches; your parents were descendents of a major bloodline. If word got out Stumphs still lived, you never would have had a normal life between humans and other magical creatures alike seeking you out,” Ashley explained.

“So, what do I do now? I mean, I can’t just go back to pretending none of this happened, but I also don’t know how to do this magical shit,” Patrick pointed out.

“I think,” Pete started,”it would be best for you to learn to control it at the very least. You don't want to have an outburst and hurt someone.”

“Yeah! And I can help you, I mean I’m not from an important family, but I can teach you the basics and then if you want you can expand to the harder stuff I have in my books. You’re more likely to be able to achieve them than I am,” Ashley said.

“...Alright, thank you,” Patrick said firmly after thinking for a few moments. 

“In fact….” Ashley trailed off, looking around her room before picking up another book sitting on her desk and handed this one to him as well, forcing him to give his family tree to Pete,”You can start on elements. They tend to be the easiest, and besides you already have fire down.”

“What do you mean, I have fire down? I’ve never made fire before?” Patrick asked, confused.

“Shit,” Ashley whispered.

Pete decided to intervene,”Uh the other day when you were mad and grabbed my wrist, after you left my wrist was burnt from your hand- No! Don’t worry, I heal fast,” Pete explained when Patrick got a worried look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Pete, I didn’t know-” Pete cut him off.

“I said it’s fine, I know you didn’t realize, I kinda deserved it anyway.”

“Okay, you two need to get out while I can still keep my room innocent, out, out,” Ashley shooed them out, still holding the two books. Before the opening disappeared before them.

“...What do we do now?” Pete broke the silence.

~~

Patrick sat on Pete’s bed while Pete was at his desk, looking through papers. 

“ King of Hell seems a lot more boring than I thought,” Patrick pointed out.

“Yeah, well not everything is punishing sinners and extracting revenge on my enemies.” Pete replied without looking up. 

Patrick looked at his book, noticing a word that looked familiar, but he didn’t know what it meant. He shrugged, deciding to test it out. He held his hand out like the book had drawn and whispered,”Ventus.”

Patrick watched, half amused, half worried when he noticed a draft carry half of Pete’s papers off his desk and onto the ground. Pete sighed, turning around,”I don’t know if I should be mad or impressed.”

“How about both?” Patrick suggested and Pete only laughed in response. Patrick went back to his book, holding up his pointer finger and said,”Ignis.” There was a small spark and some heat, but it didn’t have the same effect as when Patrick had said ‘Ventus’. Pete watched before walking over.

“I have an idea, keep thinking of it, alright?” Pete told him. Patrick didn’t have time to question him before Pete leaned down, one hand on the back of Patrick’s neck and the other keeping his finger away so he didn’t accidentally light them on fire.Patrick kept thinking of the small fire and he felt heat on his hand, but nothing that would let him know he was successful in creating a flame. Pete could tell he was getting frustrated, so he tilted both their heads and deepened it, pushing Patrick back till they both fell and Pete was straddling him. 

“Hey Pete- FUCK!” They heard Brendon scream before Patrick moved his hand and the door slammed shut, the lock audibly turning, diverting a miniscule amount of his attention from what they were currently doing.

“Oh, so we know what triggers it know, huh?” Pete grins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I did not update sooner I'm terrible. Hopefully the next one won't take over a year..haha...oh god.


End file.
